


Wheels of Fortune

by Scruffalina



Category: Supernatural
Genre: AU, Bikes, Destiel - Freeform, Fluff, Fluffy Destiel, Fluffy fic, M/M, SPN - Freeform, destiel au, destiel fic, spn fic - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-17
Updated: 2015-01-17
Packaged: 2018-03-07 23:48:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,000
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3187847
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Scruffalina/pseuds/Scruffalina
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean Winchester is late for work on a Monday morning, having been to an uproariously thrilling rave the night before. He can't really remember what happened, but what he's focusing on right now is the fact that by taking the Impala to get to college, Sammy has left Dean to cycle to his office. Cycle - like a 12 year-old kid. He's only just left the house, and he's already 5 minutes late...</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Falling In Love With You Felt Like Crashing Head-First Into A Lamppost

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you very much for reading! This isn't finished yet - hopefully when I'm not so busy with school and trying to meet art deadlines I can continue it a bit more.
> 
> This is my first proper Destiel fic. You can thank Casknows for getting me to ship it (and start watching spn in the first place - a blessing and a curse). Check out her work for more fluffy Destiel. Thanks again, hope you enjoy!

It was Monday, 8:05am, and Dean was already having a bad day.

Most importantly, he was late for work. This was because of two extremely irritating things. Firstly, he had partied way too hard the night before (not a great idea), had got home to his apartment very late, because of a certain undeniably attractive brunet (maybe that hadn't been too bad an idea) and then had overslept through his alarm (definitely not a good idea). Secondly, once he had seen the time, flown out of bed, and rushed into the kitchen - with his jacket clenched between his teeth - he found a scribbled note from Sam lying next to the toaster. Sam was apparently taking the Impala to get to college that day. Key point being that he had taken the Impala.

And this was why Dean was now using Sam's battered old bike to cycle to work - much to his disgust. He pedalled furiously, rising up off the seat. He was appalled at the ridiculously slow speed he was travelling at. At this rate, it would take him half an hour to get to his office. And he was already 5 minutes late.

I swear, the last time I rode a bike was when I was 12, he thought angrily as he swerved awkwardly around a left turn. Normally I would be taking this turn at... Well, somewhere above the speed limit. Dean found himself imagining the rumbling purr of the Impala's engine, before being abruptly brought back to reality and the shrill metallic squeaking of the old bike's brakes. Dammit, Sammy.

It was only at the next corner that he felt the full effect of the brakes. And Dean hadn't thought his day could get any worse.

He had been enveloped in a world of annoyance, staring angrily with green eyes narrowed at everything he passed by, until he found himself looking at him. The brunet. The brunet from last night.

The slim, dark, gorgeous guy was just casually strolling down the sidewalk, looking straight ahead, brown hair tousled ever so slightly. He wore a trench coat, one Dean vaguely remembered taking off him when they had got to his apartment the previous night. Then, before Dean even knew what was happening, the guy's exhilarating blue eyes interlocked with his own.

Dean slammed on the breaks so hard that he flew forwards. Over the handlebars, straight into an upcoming lamppost. There was a moment where he didn't know what was up and what was down, left, right, where the fuck his legs were. Then he hit concrete and reluctantly remembered how painful gravity could be.

"Holy mother of-" He exclaimed, sprawled on the curb at the foot of the lamppost. The bike, which had promptly caught up with him, toppled over - the brake chain caught on his jeans and the left handlebar nearly poking his eye out. "Son of a bitch!"

"Hey, are you okay?" Came a loud, low voice from behind him. Dean jolted and glanced upwards; it was the brunet, now running towards him. Shit. Shit.

"Are you alright?" He repeated in concern when he got close, those blue eyes fixed on him again. He looked as though he was searching, checking for injury. Several other people had momentarily paused to see if there was any serious damage. "That fall was... Impressive, if not terrifying." The guy, the name of which Dean was desperately trying to remember, took hold of the bike and picked it up, leaning it against the lamppost before offering Dean a hand.

"Yeah... Yeah, I'm fine." Dean hesitated, before grasping his hand firmly and hauling himself up off the concrete. "Trust me, it was definitely terrifying." He attempted a smile. "Thanks."

Brunet guy nodded, before growing silent. "Are you sure? It did look pretty bad, you basically flew several metres-"

"Nah, it's fine." Dean insisted. "And it probably looked like I flew further than I actually did. I say flying - that's what angels do. I was just kinda catapulted." His heart was beating very fast - whether from the shock of the crash or from those shocking blue eyes he didn't know. But he did know that he was in a rush, and he should probably be escaping before this guy asked him about anything els-

"Uh... So, what happened to the car?" The guy asked curiously. Dammit, Dean thought. Part of him wanted to stay, chat, and stare at this guy for eternity; part of him was unbelievably embarrassed and freaking out about the fact that he couldn't for the life of him remember the dude's name; and part of him was insisting he leave right this minute for a job that wasn't going to be his if he stayed much longer.

"Uh, it, uh... My brother, he goes to college, borrowed it today - without asking - and I was left with this piece of crap." Dean explained, turning to the bike, which now had several scratches scraped into the paint. Not that it could possibly be worth much less, Dean thought irritably.

"Ah." Brunet guy said bluntly. He took a step towards the bike and Dean hurriedly moved out of his way. "It... It looks quite battered."

"It'll have to do." Dean replied haughtily, before grabbing the thing and lifting it at a right angle to the road. Then he glanced back at the guy. "Look, I know this is a dickish thing to do, but I have to go to work and I'm already late-"

"Is that due to other 'dickish' things we were doing last night?" The guy suddenly stated, not moving his gaze. Dean froze. This guy... His expression was so cool and unperplexed. Who the fuck could say something like that with a straight face? Who was this guy?

Dean grinned, chuckled awkwardly, and lowered his eyes. "I would say yes, but... I'm sorta having trouble remembering."

Brunet dude's slim eyebrows shot upwards, then to Dean's surprise, he blushed and looked away. Unsure of how to continue, Dean looked back at the bike. Deciding that this was way too awkward to try and recover from, he swung his right leg over it before attempting to make himself comfy on the seat. Attempting to avoid looking at the brunet dude.

It was only then, as he steadied himself on the bike, that Dean realised the brakes weren't working. He pumped them with his fingers, but they were screwed. Mashed. He had braked way too hard.

"Shit. Shit!" He exclaimed, throwing his hands up. "Well that's just great."

"What is it? What's wrong?" Brunet guy asked curiously, apparently able to talk again. He leant forwards to look at him, and Dean was surprised to see the expression of concern on his face.

"The break's are screwed. Shit." Dean replied, running his right hand through his dark blonde hair and looking around wildly. There was no way he could take the bike to work with the brakes disconnected. Was there a bus stop around here or something? Anything?!

"Shit shit shit... Man, I really need to get to work..." He mumbled, still glancing across the street. Maybe he could get a taxi...? Looking down at the watch on his left wrist, he saw that it was now 12 minutes past 8. Crap. This whole situation was getting worse by the minute... Literally.

"Um... I could give you a lift, if you like?" Brunet guy suggested out of the blue. Dean whipped his head round in surprise. The guy looked earnestly back up at him. He was serious?

"My car's just round the corner..." He indicated with his left hand hesitantly; "...it's a bit small, but I was heading to work anyway, so..." Even as brunet guy said it, he sounded slightly unsure. Dean would even go so far as to say nervous. But as the guy glanced back at him, Dean realised that he was genuinely trying to help him out. Momentarily forgetting his situation, Dean suddenly felt like grinning widely, despite the awkwardness. Brunet guy wanted to help him. So didn't mind spending more time with him. That was a good sign, right?

"Uh, are you sure? I mean, that would be awesome." Dean replied, attempting to keep his voice steady. He could feel his chest getting hotter and was kinda finding it hard to breathe.

"Yeah, I'm sure." Brunet guy confirmed, smiling slightly. Dean grinned and felt his insides flutter, and he coughed. "Awesome. Thanks."

For a moment, Dean stopped thinking about how late he was for work. For a moment, he didn't care. Because no matter how late he was, he'd be making the journey with this guy.

His day had just gotten a whole lot better.


	2. This Is Gonna Be A Bumpy Ride

Having walked to the car park and loaded the messed up bike into the (tiny) boot of brunet dude's (tiny) blue car, the two of them got inside and Dean tried to make himself comfy in the (tiny) front seat. He felt like he was all elbows and knees - he kept knocking everything, the car door, the bonnet, the seat, the gear stick, and finally brunet dude's shoulder.

Dean apologised, but brunet dude shrugged it off. "It's fine, sorry about this." He paused, then sighed. "I told you it was small."

"You got that right." Dean confirmed, huffing slightly.

Brunet dude strapped himself in, then turned and looked at Dean reproachfully, his hands resting on the steering wheel. Dean raised his eyebrows.

"Let's go?" He said, feeling slightly uncomfortable. Brunet dude's startlingly blue eyes continued to bore into him. "What?"

He glanced down towards Dean's hips, then back up to his face again. Dean felt his heart leap into his throat, but the guy said nothing. Just raised his eyebrows pointedly.

"What?!" Dean repeated, spreading his hands.

The guy sighed and looked quite exasperated. "Your seatbelt." He stated bluntly, before looking out through the windscreen.

Dean felt half like screaming and half like laughing. Was this guy for real? Instead, he twisted awkwardly to grab his seatbelt, plugged it in, and exhaled, deflating. "There you go. Happy?"

"Yes." Brunet dude confirmed, starting up the engine, which sounded like a vibrating tin can compared to Dean's purring Impala. If it was possible, Dean deflated even more. This was going to be an interesting journey.

"So where am I taking you?" Brunet guy asked Dean curiously, pulling out of the car park.

"Uh right, uh... Straight on, take the left at the intersection - basically head towards the centre of town. Towards the museum."

Brunet guy suddenly sputtered and swerved. "Whoa!" Dean exclaimed as he collided with the inside of the car door. "Dude!"

"My apologies." Brunet dude said as he straightened the wheel, before glancing towards the rather disgruntled Dean. "You don't... work at the museum, do you?"

"Pfft, no." Dean replied, sniggering slightly. "I work at the consultant offices on the other side of the street. Which, isn't as boring as it sounds."

"Oh." Brunet dude replied, looking away.

"Why? Do you?" Dean asked jokingly. He couldn't imagine how boring working in a museum would be. Dean knew he definitely couldn't do it. He'd spent enough school trips in museums to know that it was coma-inducing. Sneaking off with the girls had sorta... been more his thing. Otherwise, it was random dusty object no.1, random dusty object no.2... He expected brunet dude to laugh at his suggestio-

"Actually, yes, I do." Brunet dude said in a tone of slight annoyance. Dean nearly choked. Shit - Really? Nice one, Dean. Real smooth. He grimaced, picturing Sammy with that well-rehearsed bitch face shaking his head at him disapprovingly.

"Oh, er... Right." He said, before frowning, looking out of the window and making a face. He wanted to punch something. Great. Just great. This dude had been nice enough to help him out when he'd crashed his bike, even offered to drive him to work despite the awkwardness between the two of them - and Dean had returned the favour by insulting his job.


End file.
